Godiar's Trace (33)

The locals flocked to the light, as though they were afraid of the shadows

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We walked out into the gathering night, passing through pools of light from windows, doors, and even the occasional streetlamp on a high pedestal. The color ebbed from the sky.

The streets had lost their earlier bustle, yet were far from empty. We followed Godiar's path through the crowd, through the streets, without getting close enough that we could see him, or he us. With a Trace so fresh, as yet unsullied by other people's overlaid presence, we had a strong sense of where Godiar had been, and also of how far ahead he was.

I held the map of the Mill Precinct rolled in my hand, in case we needed to refer to it again. We were perhaps more likely to lose our own way than to lose Godiar.

As the night thickened, people seemed to melt away, or soak into the buildings, or gather in the pools of light. It seemed to me that they were afraid of the shadows.

"What do you think Father was looking for? At that shop?"

Mother sighed. "Perhaps he was just being a tourist? Exploring the city? Enjoying his time here?"

I snorted. It didn't sound like the man I knew.

"Perhaps not, then? But there's no evidence for anything else."

"You know him better than I. Knew him. As a person, I mean. Was there nothing in the shop that he might have talked about, or expressed some kind of interest in at some point?"

"I hadn't spoken to him for years. My life has been filled with other things, and other people. Nothing in there meant the slightest thing to me."

"I'm just grasping, for anything."

"I understand. And we must ask questions if we are to find answers. These are perhaps not the right questions."

This was a gentle rebuke.

Mother put her hand before me as she came to a sudden halt.

My guard went up, and my senses reached out in every direction, searching for the avenue of attack, my gifts at the ready. But no attack simmered in my awareness, no particular ether surge gathered that I could discern, and no clear reason presented itself to explain Mother's sudden change.

When my awareness reached far enough ahead, I realized. Godiar had stopped.

I unfurled the map. Godiar's Trace hung in place, a short distance ahead of us. From the map, I had the sense that his path was heading west, towards the Cellar Precinct. But now he loitered, and a sense of dread rose up in me.

I whirled to face a building behind me. I had felt something, for just an instant. Not a surge of ether, but a simmering awareness upon us. It had already gone, and I could almost convince myself that I had imagined it. Except that Mother had turned as well, and had her eyes, and other awareness, trained on the same spot.

"You felt it too?" I asked her, turning ahead, suddenly afraid this was an ambush. The street seemed strangely empty. Could it be a coincidence?

"I did. I didn't like it."

Something else distracted us both, at the same instant. Godiar was on the move again. I watched the Trace’s movement on the map for a moment. It headed north, in the direction of the Market Precinct.

After a while, we walked on, and I rolled up the map for the time being.

We came to the spot where he had loitered, at a kind of monument in the middle of the road.

Mother harrumphed, and stalked over to it. She held out her hand, as if sensing something from the stonework.

"It's a public water fountain. He came here to drink. Loitered as he drank. And then moved on towards his true destination." She pointed to the north, and then demonstrated how an ornamental stone spigot could be lifted to allow a narrow stream of water to launch into the air for some inches. Mother replaced the spigot quickly.

"Ingenious." I reached out to the stone, and I knew that Mother was right. Godiar had lifted the spigot to drink from the fountain.

"Don't you trust me?" Mother was teasing, but I flushed anyway.

"I just wanted to feel it for myself."

Godiar's pace was steady, and we hurried to follow.

The streets were now almost deserted, and any locals we passed stared at us, in either suspicion or curiosity. Our faces caught the light. We would be remembered.

After some time, Godiar's Trace came to rest again.

I looked at the map; he had entered a building.

Mother shrugged. "That could be it."

"His house? Or his place of business?"

"Either. Or both."

I rolled up the map again, and we went on. The closer we got to Godiar, the stronger our awareness of the Trace became.

When, finally, we stood across an empty street from a small grey stone building, much like all the others we had seen in the Mill Precinct, there was no doubt he was inside. I had greater certainty about his location than he had professed to have on mine, just yesterday, back at our lodgings.

"He's inside," I murmured.

Mother nodded. "What now?"

A footfall sounded behind us, and we turned to face it. An Agalin man of substantial dimensions stepped into the comparative light, arms on his hips. He said something, and nodded his head towards the building we'd been watching.

Godiar's voice rang out behind us, speaking to the strange Agalin. We turned back to Godiar, and he asked us, "Perhaps I can invite you inside, for tea?"

Continue reading with Part 34 next Thursday.